


FrUk Driving

by oniuno



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-27 08:39:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6277471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oniuno/pseuds/oniuno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four wheels, four walls...let's hope this isn't too painful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FantomDannie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantomDannie/gifts).



“God…are you joking?” He snarled. Thick eyebrows pressed together in frustration. “That’s ridiculous. Tell them no. Tell them to cancel it. I’ll – I’ll –“

Arthur’s heavy, frustrated footsteps made wet _smacks_ on the ground. Blond strands wilted in the moist air, ruining his clean-cut style he had been working on since 5am. His knuckles turned white, curling around the umbrella handle a little more as a worried voice sputtered from the other side of his cellphone.

“Don’t you think I understand that?! Those tossers think – no, screw them. Tear up the contract. Walk out of there, right now.” He barked. Arthur continued his march in the rain, angrily stomping to his car parked not 5 blocks away. The rain gathered in deep pools at the roadside, unaware of the businessman’s struggle against both the elements and incompetent staff. But mostly against the elements. Arthur _hated_ rain. It ruined his hair, it ruined his phone (the last one had fallen victim to a puddle three weeks ago), and right now, it seemed to be ruining his week. He hissed as a growl of thunder threatened overhead.

“No, Gil – Gilbert – Listen, if you interrupt me like that again, I’ll stick a boot up your ar-ARGH”

A filthy torrent of water rose up from under a wheel arch and launched itself at Artie. More precisely, at his coat, his face, and the phone held up to his ear. It took all of his willpower to not drop it in shock, and as a result almost lost balance and slid into the road. He cast his eyes up to the road ahead of the sidewalk, eyeing a filthy white truck as it sauntered away in the rain. _Oh, this was the last straw._ It slowed to an almost stop just 50 feet away, before signalling to turn.

Practically rolling his sleeves, Arthur stormed up the road, shoving his phone into his (soaking) pocket and brandishing his umbrella as thought he was going to swing it at someone. Before he reached it, the truck slowly started to turn into an alley. He caught a look at the offending driver – and he swore they winked at him. More determined than ever, he started yelling, almost caught up the truck.

“YOU BASTARD! YOU’VE FUCKING RUINED MY COAT! THIS IS LIMITED EDITION VALENTINO – YOU’RE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS-“ He began mentally noting down the licence plate as he followed them, with the full intention of making them cough up for his stupidly expensive fashion statement.

Finally taking notice of him, the truck stopped just as it had pulled into the alley. The door swung open, and a tall young man stood out. The mocking smirk was carved into his cheeks as he started to walk towards the still-yelling Artie. At least they were partially sheltered from the rain inbetween the two buildings.

“Eh – eh, soh-ree, sir,” The young man spoke with a thick French accent, all the while his knowing smirk still taunting Arthur. “I did not, er, notice you and your er...eyebrows from my seat of my truck.”

“ _Excuse me_?!” Arthur spat, stopping a few feet away from the driver. He grimaced at the filthy, tattered clothes the driver was wearing with a sense of disgust. “What did you-“

The doors at the back of the truck slowly slid open, allowing it’s occupant to slip out, unseen by the both of them.  


	2. Chapter 2

The doors at the back of the truck slowly slid open, allowing it’s occupant to slip out, unseen by the both of them.  

\----------------------------------------------------

Gentle footsteps graced the ground beneath them, tempting the water to make tiny _splash_ sounds and alerting the two conversing men. Although there wasn’t much chance of that. Arthur was getting more and more worked up, a dark look brewing on his face.

“You know, er, _eyebrows aren’t supposed to cover your entire crown.”_ The Frenchman purred, leaning against the truck door. He could see he had touched a nerve, and continued to prod. “ _You er, seem to ‘ave ‘andled the space inbetween your eyes on your own, but above, not so much.“_

Arthur rebutted with a snarl, squaring up to the other as much as he could bear. Insecurities are so easily played upon. 

“F-fuck you. How dare you – even - _you know what, you…filthy little man, I’d be surprised if you can even afford a razor…hah…”_ His tone began to grow arrogant. The snarl melted into a sneer, cogs in his head turning at this poor, simple labourer, and how he would have to use a month’s wages just to get Arthur’s coat dry cleaned, with a fat stack of interest to apologise _properly_. Oh, this guy was gonna pay for crossing him. 

To his dismay, the other man simply stared back, arms folded. Their defensive stances were matched perfectly. Noting the movement behind Arthur’s shoulder, he suddenly let out an obvious chuckle, followed by an eyeroll. Arthur squared up pathetically.

“ _Alright, you know what? You wanna start a fight with me? Do you even know who I am? Like, do you have one fucking clue who you’re dealing with here?!...”_

The figure behind him continued to creep, picking up the pace a little as he saw Arthur reach into his pocket. _Who knows who that guy has on speed dial…_ He shuddered as hands tightened around a trigger. Only three or four more steps and he’d be on him. And Arthur still hadn’t noticed.

When his accomplice was close enough to reach him, Francis suddenly stopped toying with his target. He reached forward, very purposely putting a hand on Arthur’s shoulder to stop him from turning. “ _I know exactly whom I’m dealing with, Mr. Kirkland.”_  

He still wore his dark expression as Alfred lifted the tazer, promptly thrusting it into the back of Arthur’s exposed neck. The electricity bit suddenly, and before the businessman could even comprehend there was someone behind him, he blacked out.

\----------------------------------------------------

It was some time before Arthur came around. The truck seemed a lot bigger on the inside – and unexpectedly similar to a kind of mobile home. A table and two chairs were bolted into the floor, and some kind of minifridge mounted into the wall. On the roof there was a kind of frosted window, where still-gloomy clouds passed by overhead. 


	3. Chapter 3

It was some time before Arthur came around. The truck seemed a lot bigger on the inside – and unexpectedly similar to a kind of mobile home. A table and two chairs were bolted into the floor, and some kind of minifridge mounted into the wall. On the roof there was a kind of frosted window, where still-gloomy clouds passed by overhead.

\----------------------------------------------------

Arthur groaned. The truck suddenly turned, and he started to slide a little across the floor. Waves of nausea flooded his sinuses. His eyes turned suddenly as he looked for somewhere to puke - or better still, somewhere to escape. His senses were still coming back to him as he scanned over the tall, blonde man from earlier - still in worker's overalls. Sloped on the opposite wall to him, Francis pressed a pack of ice to his head, wincing as the truck slid again in same direction. In the other hand he held a phone, and was muttering into it with disgust.

“ _…yessir. It was only a minor hiccup…”_ He groaned, pulling the ice pack away briefly. He hadn’t seemed to notice Arthur yet – something which he tried to take advantage of. Spotting the doors at the back, he subtly tried to slide – past the Frenchman on the other side – towards then. “ _Fucking…prick…Ah, my head is killing me,”_ Francis continued to mutter. 

Arthur couldn’t help but crack a proud smile. Piecing together what he could remember (and a little imagination), the brute had clearly used a gang of others to overwhelm him by pure numbers, to steal his wallet or something…but it appeared the ringleader had not escaped without an injury. _I knew those boxing lessons would come in useful_ , he gloated internally, still wriggling a little, inching closer and closer to the door. He would wait for the truck to make a turn again, and then casually slide into the back of the truck, bracing his feet so they would somehow spring open. It was worth a shot, at lea-

“ _Yeah, he came around a few minutes ago. I think he, er, has to pee or something. He won’t stop shuffling.”_

Arthur jolted at the casual remark, and made rapid eye contact with his assailant. Caught off guard, he simply blinked for a few moments, tensely weighing out his options. The other merely smirked as he regarded his prisoner, only half-listening to the unimpressed voice on the other side of the phone.

The truck started to turn again, this time to the left side. As it started to swerve, Arthur took advantage of the movement to spring to his feet, and, remarking how stupid they were for not tying him up, launched himself at the double doors. They made an impressive _clang_ and suddenly became dented, whilst Arthur’s body fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes.  

“ _Er, I’m gonna have to go-”_ Francis snapped his phone off, narrowing his eyes as he slowly got to his feet and walked towards the stunned Arthur. He dropped the icepack, and slowly drew a gun from his side. He gestured vaguely to the back of the truck where Arthur had been, poking the man in the ribs with a shiny boot. “ _You know-“_ He was cut off. The truck suddenly started veering to the left again, and Francis had to hold onto the side for balance, letting out a sigh.

“ _ALFRED! You want to try not driving like a chimpanzee, you fucking idiot?!”_ He yelled. There was an inaudible, sheepish reply from the driver’s seat. “ _You really want me to explain how you crashed our only truck to the boss, too?”_

Arthur had shuffled back, eyeing the gun nervously. _Boss, huh? So this really is an organised thing...?_

The other cleared his throat, blinking for a few seconds as his headache reemerged with a vengence. Hitting the solid concrete ground was unpleasant, let alone when you were cushioning another man’s fall, _especially_ when that man was supposed to be your prisoner. He locked eyes with Arthur again.

“ _Ahem. As it was saying. It’s locked, you know.”_

**Author's Note:**

> [With thanks again to Dannie for the prompt...]


End file.
